Memories
by Lilzenium
Summary: Zommie reflects on his life and a certain Ginger companion.


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**Author's Note: **I do not own any of these characters, nor do I claim to - they all belong to the wonderful Tessa Stone. Also, I apologize for how awful this is.

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**Memories from a Dead man.  
**-A Hanna is Not a Boys' Name fanfiction by Ruby Willis-Powell.

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With Hanna, I've never known quite how to describe my feelings. I've never had anyone like him in my life, or at least not someone I can recall.  
But thinking about it, I wouldn't want the memories before him back. He's all I've ever known; the one constant in my ever changing lifestyle.  
He's the one person who stays the same; he's always bouncy, always.. there. There beside me, dragging me along, (although I do not believe dragging is the correct term for I would follow Hanna to the ends of the earth just to see him smile) propelling us both head-first into a world of danger and darkness.  
But do you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, I don't describe my emotions brilliantly but perhaps I should try. And if I decided to try, perhaps I should start at the beginning. After all, I've heard that's a very good place to start, even if I can't quite remember where..

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It was a crisp autumn day and the songs of the birds were peaking and falling as the many cars trawled past, passengers scoffing early-morning breakfast and gulping down enough coffee to give them more than the kick needed, and probably a caffeine addiction for life. I've tried to recall where I found his card, but I honestly can't. I just remember sensing that he (or she, as I had originally thought) may be able to help me with the problem that I had been dealing with alone for 10 years, and I decided to follow up the address and talk to the man who would later come to mean so much to me.

His face when I asked whether he was hiring is one of his several dozen that will stay with me for as long as I am alive, although technically I am neither alive nor dead so words have failed me here. I apologize.

He took one look at me and I knew I was welcome in the queer little world in which he had buried himself. And I couldn't have been happier, although I don't believe I expressed it in the best possible way. My facial expressions were very limited at that time - it was one of two; deadpan or deadpan, the latter of the two with the barest hint of a smile - but I guess being alone for ten years does that to a person.. they loose their human touch. I've got so many more reasons to smile now.

Then there was the whole theatre haunting, resulting in the 1000 crane challenge. Sitting in the half-light of the moon opposite him, the swathes of light cutting harshly across the room and bathing Hanna and I in an eerily beautiful fashion. If my heart could skip a beat, it would have done when he produced the first crane. That crane is like him - one in a thousand. The start of something new. I don't know what it was that made me feel so happy. I guess it's the way he treats me like an actual person, that he cares about me like nobody else does. I believe this moment is when some untouched emotion stirred inside me, but it took me a long time to place a name on it.

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It was the moment that he kissed me first that everything became clear. I like to imagine how he tastes, since that is one of the many senses death has ripped from my body. In my mind, Hanna's kisses are sweet, beautiful, unique experiences. Each one he presses to my lips is slightly different, but each of them just as special to me.  
The night our kisses turned into fumbling fingers and lust-filled looks is one that I shall never forget. The feel of his body against mine, his fingers tracing swirling marks across my chest, his lips against my autopsy scars. My hands on the taught skin pulled over the knobs of his hips and the way he grabbed my collar to pull me closer.

We had been making popcorn in the kitchenette of our tiny apartment, Hanna sitting on the counter-top, legs swinging happily as he held the lid on, a look of joy plastered across his face as he watched the corn crackle and jump away from the bottom of the pan. I'd been making the toffee-sauce to go with it, after Hanna had informed me that neither sugar or salt appealed to him that night, and had somehow managed to get the sticky liquid on my chin.

"Gallahad." Hanna had said, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at me. "Come here, man! You've got toffee across your chin! I'll get it off for ya." His fingers caught my tie and he pulling me towards him, his grin getting bigger. One hand cupped my chin and he brought his lips to it, tongue licking at the substance. I drew an unnecessary breath as he caught the corner of my mouth and he let go. I stumbled backwards, leaning against the table.  
"Where did that come from, Hanna?" He smiled sheepishly, a blush creeping along his cheeks.  
"I've been thinking, man. We do everything together.. I'm closer to ya than anyone else, yanno? And I.. I like you. More than I probably should. And I know it's wrong, dude. I know it's not right but I just can't help my-"  
I grabbed him then, pressing close to his body as our tongues tangoed about eachother's mouths, exploring, taking in, experimenting.

And everything felt so _right. _It wa-  
It is like we were meant for eachother. And we are.

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I love him.

And he loves me.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
